Like Warm Honey
by Haitus80
Summary: He needed her to make the pain go away. She needed him to drop his pants. Season 5 interlude One Shot. I own nothing.


**I started this a week ago and just got around to finishing it up. I only wrote it to cheer myself up but thought you guys might like it. Thanks for reading =)**

 **Like Warm Honey**

It was late. He should have been back by now but those goddamn things had came out of nowhere. He couldn't believe how bad the pain was. He liked to pride himself on his ability to block pain but this was a bit much, even for him. He didn't know how many times he had been bit. A dozen at least. When Carol's house came into view he breathed out a sigh of relief. She would know what to do. She was smart, resourceful, she would fix this. His faith in her was unwavering.

He climbed her back porch steps and knocked. He knew she would be asleep but he didn't care. He needed to see her. He needed her to fix this. It was horrible.

He saw a dim light appear in the kitchen and then the door opened. She was blinking sleep out of her eyes, holding a lantern in one hand and a robe closed with the other. When she realized it was him she frowned.

"Daryl?"

"I need you. Now," he croaked.

One brow shot up and then she gave him a sleepy lopsided smile. "Are you banging on my door at two in the morning to proposition me for sex? Not that I'm protesting but don't you think there's more polite ways of asking?"

"Damn it, Carol, I'm serious. I was out in the woods and... goddamn it. I got bit all over. Do your responsible grown up thing and fucking fix it!"

At the mention of the word bit her smile fell. It didn't just fall, it crashed. She gasped and he could see the blood drain from her face as she covered her mouth with her hand. "You were bit?" She choked, looking very much like she was about to cry.

He instantly felt horrible. He should have worded it differently but it fucking hurt and he just wanted her to fix it. "Not bit by a walker, damn it. Let me in."

Her anguish turned to confusion and then she opened the door wide and stepped out of his way. He hurried inside and turned to her. "I wasn't fucking watching, it was dark. I stepped right on them and didn't even know it!" He tried to explain. It was starting to itch but the burn was still brutal.

"Daryl, slow down. What bit you?" She asked, placing the lantern down. They had electricity but she rarely used it. He didn't either. It just seemed like a waste.

"Ants. Fire ants. Little mother fuckers were all over me and it goddamn hurts. Fix it."

She studied him for a few moments, that felt like an eternity but then she laughed. Laughed! She was going to stand there laughing at him while he was suffering. So much for him thinking that she would be concerned. He glared at her but she shook her head. "I'm sorry. This is serious. Okay, so what exactly is it that you want me to do?"

He gestured towards her frantically, now shifting from one foot to the other. "Do whatever you need to do, damn it! I know you can make it stop fuckin' burnin'!" He wasn't meaning to yell but she wasn't taking this seriously enough.

Suddenly her smile fell and she cursed. "Damn it," she muttered sadly.

"What!" He choked.

With a sigh she shook her head. "Nothing. Take off your pants."

"What? Goddamn it, this ain't the time for jokes!"

"Are you wearing underwear?" she crossed her arms over her chest again, no longer smiling. Her tone wasn't teasing either.

"Yeah," he muttered, his ears burning.

"Well that's a first," she mumbled unhappily.

"How the hell would you know?" He snapped, God, this was miserable.

"Because I've done your laundry for the past few years," she said as she reached into her pantry and pulled out a small jar. "Now, I won't look at your..." she gestured towards his crotch, "Weiner. Take your pants off and let me make it better."

He wanted to at least pretend to protest but it was too much. He went for his belt and then cried out in surprise. "Son of a bitch!" He raised his shirt and, sure enough, some of those little evil sons of bitches had ridden in on his pants and were now under his shirt, biting and stinging his stomach. He swiped at them and then stomped them under his boot when they hit the floor.

At least he had on boxers. Sure they were boxer briefs but they were still better than if he'd gotten some embarrassing ass tidy whiteys. He toed off his boots, tore his belt off and, despite how uncomfortable it made him to do it, he dropped his pants right there in the middle of Carol's kitchen.

"Oh my," she muttered, her eyes widening.

"Shut it," he growled.

She looked up, meeting his eyes with a look of false innocence on her face. "I was just commenting on your legs. They got you good. Sit."

"Bastards," he mumbled.

"You might as well take of your shirt too, get it all done at once," she said once he was sitting in the chair with his legs stretched out."

"What?" He asked, his voice sharp as anxiety had him wanting to squirm.

She sat something down on the floor next to his foot and then knelt down between his legs, her hands on his knees. She met his eyes and he hated that he wanted to look away from hers. But their was understanding in her gaze that eased that panic.

With a weary sigh he pulled off his shirt and then leaned back. "There, you happy now?" He grumbled.

She smiled and picked up whatever she had sat down on the floor. "Don't flatter yourself, Daryl. You aren't the first man that I've gotten out of their pants since we got here."

He felt his teeth slam together and he grew tense. "What the fuck are you talkin' about?" He snapped, not even sure where the flash of anger came from.

She raised her eyes slowly. "I was kidding. It's good to know that you care though. You're too sweet, Daryl."

"Can you just hurry up?" He grumbled, ready to get this over with. For some reason she was in the mood to be an ass and give him hell. That would be okay, as long as she could stop the awful burning in his legs.

She sighed sadly. "You better be thankful that I like you so much. I've been saving this for a special occasion, and believe it or not, it had nothing to do with pouring it all over your naked self."

"What is it? And I ain't naked," he muttered, even though this was the most naked he had been in front of another person in a very very long time.

She didn't say anything. She just sighed miserably and unscrewed the lid and then tilted the jar over his left thigh. Once he realized what it was he actually did feel a little guilty. "Honey?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" She grinned.

He actually chuckled at that and it earned him a smile. "Where the hell did you get that?" He asked, trying to distract himself from the fact that she was rubbing the sticky sweet stuff over the bites on his thighs.

"Eugene and Abe brought it to me the other day. I was saving it," she said, tipping the jar up and pouring it over his other leg.

He tried really hard to ignore the fact that he was sitting there in nothing but boxers. He tried even harder to ignore the fact that her hands working over him felt better than anything had in a long time. Amazingly, though, the pain actually started to subside, so focusing on that wasn't helping.

"You can spend the night if you want. You don't strike me as the type of man that would be willing to walk home in his underpants, even if it is really late."

"Alright," he said, swallowing hard as her hands worked higher and higher. He jumped when her fingertips slipped under the legs of those too short boxers.

She smiled. "Alright, time to move up," she said, shifting further between his legs.

"I can get the rest," he said quickly, reaching for the jar.

That look, that goddamn look that he knew so well by now came over her face and he braced himself. "Daryl Dixon, can you honestly tell me that you would rather sit here and pour this on yourself than have me do it?"

He sighed. "Just hurry the hell up."

"First things first. Did they bite you anywhere else I need to know about?" She looked so serious but he knew she was fighting a laugh. He saw her lips twitch. "Might as well not stop at your legs. This is the kinkiest thing I think I've ever done."

"You ain't smotherin' my balls in honey, woman. Can we just get on with it?" He growled. He actually couldn't believe he had just said that but the look of shock on her face made it worth it. Then again, if they didn't stop talking like that he wouldn't be responsible if she got smacked in the face with an instant hard on. Sometimes it was really fucking hard being friends with this woman.

She opened her mouth to say something but they heard a sound coming from the doorway to the living room. They both looked over and he wanted to bolt out the door right then.

Glenn was gaping at them. "I'm so sorry. I saw the light and wanted to... I mean, I thought I'd check and see if... Oh my God."

Daryl knew Glenn had only caught the tail end of this conversation. Not to mention the fact that he was nearly naked and she was knelt there between his legs coating him in this sticky mess. He knew what it looked like and he knew there was no way in hell anyone would believe the truth. "You just gonna stand there and watch?" He finally asked, breaking the tension.

Glenn shook his head. "No. No, I'll go. Jesus, Daryl, when you finally make a move, you really move." He was backing further into the shadows but Daryl didn't miss the huge grin on his face.

Neither of them moved until they heard the front door shut. When he finally looked at her she was staring at him worriedly. "I thought I locked that front door before I went to bed. I didn't know someone could walk right in. I'm sorry," she said quickly.

Her whole demeanor had changed. She was actually afraid that he was angry about Glenn catching them. Really, he was at the point where he didn't care. Not what the others thought. Hell, half the damn town thought they were together. So what if someone thought they had witnessed something... weird. Did he really come off as that much an asshole that she was afraid he'd be pissed off about this?

She stood up and made a move to take a step back but he grabbed her hand. For a second their eyes met, neither saying a word but he felt the need to sooth her frayed nerves. The only thing that she was really concerned about was his reaction and he knew it. Other than that, she would have easily laughed the whole thing off.

He was about to tell her that it wasn't a big deal. He was about to tell her to go ahead and finish doing what she was doing. But he got distracted. The robe had opened up just enough for him to get a glimpse of a scrap of lace and the top swell of her breast. He shouldn't have stared but he did anyway.

"What?" She asked suddenly.

His eyes reluctantly slid up to meet hers. All those times she teased him. All the quips. All the jokes at his expense. All the sexual innuendos tumbled through his mind in that moment. Under all of that, did she really want him? Was her constant banter just a way for her to express that without the bitter bite of rejection? He pulled her closer and she didn't hesitate but then he stopped.

"What is it?" She asked quickly, keeping her eyes on his. Thank God cause if she looked down she would see a lot more than she ever anticipated.

"How long do I gotta keep this sticky shit on me?" He asked, his voice low.

She blinked. "A while."

He cursed but amazingly she shook her head and then sat right down on him, straddling his lap. "What are you doin'?" he asked but it was just to save face. His hands slipped right into the robe and pulled her closer as his heart pounded out an excited rhythm.

"Shut up, Daryl. I think you know exactly what I'm doing and it's exactly what you want me to do," she said as her hands went to his shoulders lightly.

It wasn't like he could deny it. She was sitting right there on the evidence, but he kept his face schooled, his eyes on hers despite the fact that her bold move caused her robe to fall open more and his hands were digging into her hips. Hips that were bare, he realized with a start. He could feel the heat from her, feel the goosebumps break out over her skin when his hands traveled back up her sides. He was suddenly consumed with that old familiar longing. He'd grown used to it but now it was spiked with something else. Something different. Anticipation. And for all of her boldness he could still see uncertainty in her eyes. Her hands trembled slightly.

What did she think he was going to do? Dump her on the floor? Snap at her to get the fuck off of him? Was she really that clueless? Finally he lowered his eyes from hers and suddenly he felt like he was starving. He felt like he had been fasting for two fucking years and now he was finally going to get to taste something better than he had ever tasted before.

He wasn't sure what came over him then, or maybe he was but he was getting to the point where logical thought was failing him. So without thinking about it... he licked her. Not just a tentative lick either. He ran the flat of his tongue up the valley between her breast, over the warm skin of her throat and didn't stop until he reached her chin.

He pulled back, not sure what to say but didn't have to worry about it because her mouth crashed into his and her hips rolled into him. Her hands were in his hair, her tongue sliding against his skillfully. He grunted at her ferocity. Apparently, she had been just as starved as he was. Her hands traveled down his chest but once she reached his stomach he pulled back with a hiss of pain.

She cursed and looked down. "Why the hell did you finally decide to put out on the very night you get attacked by insects?" She asked hotly.

He stared at her, his breathing erratic and his eyes wide. He couldn't help it. He laughed. Her complete outrage, for some reason, was the funniest thing he'd seen in a very long time. She was right. He pulls his head out of his ass when he's covered in bug bites and honey, sitting in her kitchen chair. He was smooth.

She reached down and picked up the jar. In her rush, she got it everywhere. His chest, his stomach. He was beyond caring though because as soon as she was finished she moved back just a little and her hand slid down the waistband of his boxers. As soon as her hand closed over him he pulled her mouth back to his to keep from making any embarrassing sounds. This was kind of embarrassing as it was. And if she didn't stop running her hand over him like that it was going to be even more embarrassing because he had spent a lot of lonely nights thinking about how her soft hands would feel on him and he was going to lose it if she didn't stop.

"Carol," he growled against her lips, a clear warning in his voice. She smiled and finally let go of him, working his boxers down his hips as he pushed the robe down her arms.

"You know, if I knew this was what you were hiding all these years, maybe I would have stepped up my game," she whispered, her teeth nipping at his neck.

Before he could come up with a suitable retort she moved, sinking down on him swiftly. Her breath left her in a rush and he had to clench his jaw to keep from making a sound. He found himself silently thanking those bastard ants because they were the reason she had finally gotten him out of his pants in the first place and this... this was fucking amazing.

She rolled her hips experimentally, her greedy mouth seeking his out once more but not before a moan escaped her. He kissed her hard, praying that he wouldn't blow it in the next thirty seconds. She seemed to sense his dilemma because she moved slowly, languidly. He trailed his hands up her back, fiddling with the bra strap to distract him from the increasing waves of sensation.

Once her bra was finally off his mouth moved from hers, traveling down quickly. Her fingers tangled into his hair again when his lips moved over her breast. She tasted like warm honey and felt like fucking Heaven. He sucked deeply, causing her to gasp. He was so close and he hated it but it was all too much. He'd refrained from any physical gratification for far too long and she felt too fucking good.

His grip on her tightened and he braced himself for the pleasure to come, even though he felt guilty about it because he was powerless to get her off. It had simply been too long. But then he felt her muscles flutter deep inside and she gasped. The flutter turned into a hard shudder and a second before he lost himself she cried out, her body gripping his hungrily. His teeth sank into the delicate skin of her throat as her muscles coiled around him, somehow heightening the intensity of his own orgasm. He growled low in his throat and he held her even tighter as his name fell from her lips, sounding almost as shocked as he felt. Through the haze in his mind he noted how her body trembled against his and he felt strangely smug. Not that it was earned. All he really did was sit there hoping he didn't get off too quick, but he'd let himself believe he had at least a little bit to do with her release.

When it was over he didn't stop moving his hands over her. Her forehead fell into his and she grinned, her eyes bright though the lamplight was dim. "That was..." She whispered, her voice trailing off.

"That was quick and sticky," he muttered, but he could still feel the tremors from the aftershocks running through her.

She laughed, reaching down to grab the robe and slipping it on before she moved off of him. He quickly righted his underwear and stood up. When she met his eyes she bit her lip, looking up at him from under her lashes. "Do you feel better now?" She asked.

He watched her, not sure if she was talking about the bites or the sex. Either way, yeah. He felt better now. He was actually looking forward to another round but he wanted to get this crap off of him first. He wasn't going to pretend like this was a one time thing. There was no way it could be. "Yeah," he nodded.

"You can probably wash it off if you want but I can't promise it won't start hurting again. And you're going to itch something fierce."

He shrugged. At this point he didn't care. He had other things on his mind now.

~H~

He collapsed on top of her, sweat soaked and breathing heavily. Her heart thundered under his ear and her hands ran through his damp hair. It had been a week since the night he had ran to her house after the fire ant fiasco. Other than to grab some clothes, it had been a week since he had stayed at his own place at all.

"That wasn't quick or sticky," she muttered breathlessly.

He laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. Even the laugh sounded lazy. He was completely drained. She said that all the time now. She apparently had thought that his assessment of the first time they had been together had been hilarious. "Nah. Not quick or sticky at all." He pushed himself up, bracing himself on his arms so he was no longer squashing her into the bed but her legs went around his waist, locking him in place.

He settled back into the cradle of her thighs. He hadn't really wanted to move anyway. Being this close to her just felt right. It was one of the only things that still made him feel tethered to this world. He had always enjoyed what they had shared before. The bond that they shared and the feelings she evoked in him that he never thought he would feel. That emotional connection that had always seemed to be there since the moment he had met her. All of that seemed amplified now. He didn't feel like he needed to hold anything back anymore. It gave him a sense of peace that he never knew he was missing.

For the first time in his life, he felt like he had it all. He just hated that he had wasted so much goddamn time. And he also hated that the thing he had to thank for everything that he had with her was those fucking ants.


End file.
